


Governmental Romanticized Ploy

by SweetPotato



Category: Black-ish (TV), In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, M/M, bread baking, purely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPotato/pseuds/SweetPotato
Summary: Usnavi woke up to the smell of warm yeast and the sound of low jazz coming from outside the bedroom. Dragging a hand across his sleep numbed face, he turned to look at his alarm clock. 6:23 am, it read, on a Sunday, Usnavi’s brain provided.





	Governmental Romanticized Ploy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LimpBlotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LimpBlotter/gifts).



> I hope you all like this, especially you, you know who you are ; )

Usnavi woke up to the smell of warm yeast and the sound of low jazz coming from outside the bedroom. Dragging a hand across his sleep numbed face, he turned to look at his alarm clock. 6:23 am, it read, on a Sunday, Usnavi’s brain provided.

 

He groaned and rolled out of the bed, pulling the blanket off with him, before dropping it in favor of his blue flannel robe hanging from the bathroom door. The music wasn’t that loud, so he could hear the pitter patter of his own bare feet on the wood floor as he walked towards the kitchen. There, among at least five chakra candles, because boyfriend would be damned if he turned a light on for once in his life, was Johan, kneading what seemed to be a pretty hefty chunk of bread dough at 6:30 in the morning.

 

Usnavi was not surprised in the least, a little disgruntled about being woken up so early on his day off, but not surprised. One time Usnavi came home for lunch to find Johan working on a dozen bars of coffee exfoliating soaps, his creative spontaneity was part of Johan’s charm at this point. He just leaned against the door frame for a few minutes, watching the other man work the dough in his boxers, sleeping tank top, and bright yellow apron that had “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow” embroidered on it. Even in the dim light Usnavi much enjoyed the way Johan’s forearms and biceps flexed as he kneaded.

 

After a few minutes Johan threw the wad of dough into a glass bowl he had sitting on the counter next to him. He turned to the sink to wash the flour off his hands, which looked a shocking shade of white on his dark skin, when he finally noticed Johan in the doorway. His face broke into a big warm smile, and Usnavi felt something in his heart swell.

 

“Morning sunshine, didn’t think you’d be up yet.” He started rinsing his hands.

 

“Yeah, me neither.”  Usnavi tiredly grinned at him, moving from his place against the door frame to wrap his arms around Johan from behind.

 

“Sorry for waking you up.” He apologizes, grabbing a recycled T-Shirt cloth from its spot hanging from a cabinet to dry his hands.

 

“Don’t be, you know I love watching you cook.” He rubs his face against Johans tank covered shoulder blades. Johan is so warm first thing in the morning, and an almost unbearable ball of heat under the covers. Usnavi’s grip is loose enough so that Johan can turn around without having to interrupt the embrace. 

 

Johan looks down, eyes lidded with the memory of sleep and says, “Then you're welcome, and may I say your aura is especially pink this morning?” Usnavi just rolls his eyes, before letting go and leaning out of the embrace, only to reach down to take both of Johan’s hands. They were cold from the sink water, and Usnavi brought them both up to his face, palm side up, and kissed them both one at a time.

 

“Mi amor, I love you so much.” Usnavi told him, still holding his large hands.

 

Johan beamed, showing nearly all of his pearly white teeth, “I love you too, mon amour.” He leaned down to place a warm kiss on Usnavi forehead.

 

“I just, I want you to know how much I love you Johan, being able to wake up with you in my bed every morning feels like a privilege. And I love how you just do things spontaneously; Waking up at 6 and deciding to make bread, like who does that? I even love all the hippie shit you say and do, talking about auras and grain diversity, whatever that means.” Usnavi sniffles, happy tears growing in his eyes, making them glisten in the candlelight, “There really is no one else like you, and I, I’m just so happy you chose me.” Johan was beginning to tear up too, feeling as if he had too much love inside him, but not wanting to let one drop of it go. He pulled his hands out of Usnavi’s and cupped his face, making the other man look up at him. 

 

Johan leaned in and gave him a slow, closed mouth kiss before talking, “Do you really love me that much ‘Navi?” he asked, awe and disbelief evident in his voice.

 

“I really do,” He quietly chuckles, “So much it almost scares me. I- you know what,” He lightly pushed Johan off of himself, “Stay right here, alright?” And like that the teary eyed ball of emotion sprinted out of the kitchen in the direction of the bedroom. Barely a moment later he ran back into the kitchen, where a confused Johan stood, looking down at him in anticipation.

 

“Johan I…” He shoved his hands in his robe pockets nervously, trying to maintain eye contact with the taller man, “I know you don’t approve of governmental romanticized ceremonies and stuff like that, but I really, I never-” He coughed, tripping over his own words.  Johan reached out for him, concerned, but Usnavi once again grabbed his hand, and kissed his knuckles, before letting one hand fall to his robe pocket, “I can’t see myself with anyone other than you for the rest of my life, I want to come back to this dingy apartment every day to you and your five hundred cardigans, I want you to keep trying to feed me vegan dominican food thinking I won’t notice, and I just want you. And…” Realising how rambly he was getting Unavi decided to go all in, still holding Johans hand he dropped to one knee, and took out a small wooden box from his pocket. After clumsily opening it with one hand to reveal a dark polished redwood engagement band, he finally asked in an embarrassingly shaky voice, “Johan, will you marry me?” And there, before seven am on a sunday morning, in their small kitchen lit up by candles, with the sound of smooth jazz, and the smell of yeast in the air, Johan decided that one governmental romanticised play, didn't sound so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I LIVE FOR COMMENTS
> 
> No but like really, I would love to keep writing for this ship, but it is so small, and comments motivate me SO much.
> 
> Any way, hope you all have a great day <3


End file.
